


lips like morphine

by cdocks



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: AU, F/M, Hate Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-12
Updated: 2012-11-12
Packaged: 2017-11-18 11:59:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/560830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cdocks/pseuds/cdocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>cato/katniss - cato pretends she's clove; katniss pretends he's peeta (written for the hunger games fic-a-thon in march '12)</p>
            </blockquote>





	lips like morphine

He catches her hunting. 

She was stupid, she was careless, she was distracted, because her ticket out (that's all he is, that's all they are, it's all for the camera's, every kiss, every touch, every night she lies her head on his chest and listens to his ragged breathing and stuttered heartbeat and wills him to life until her body aches with it) is lying in the cave and he's lost, he's somewhere beyond her, someplace she can't reach or get to.

And in the second between turning towards the snapping of a twig and seeing his face, she sees the flash of golden hair, sees the square jaw and her very bones betray her with wanting and she stumbles forward, not wanting to look too close, not wanting the eyes, the nose, the height and build to be wrong, not wanting to destroy this vision of a Peeta without pain, a Peeta whole and unbroken and staring at her like she's the rising sun.

Which is odd, which is strange and wrong, which should be him (the boy whose name she doesn't think, because to think it is to accept that Peeta is dying in that cave) staring at her like his next victim, cold and cruel like that day in the tree, with the others around him, with that slight and slender and sinister girl next to him, dark eyes and dark hair, voice vicious and sharp and telling him to kill her. 

Oh. Dark hair, dark like Katniss's, dark between his fingers when he grabs at it, not to yank or to hold her still, but to feel, and it tumbles loose from her braid and it doesn't matter that her eyes are too bright, too blue, or that his face is too angular and sharp and strained, because he doesn't look her in the eye and she doesn't look anywhere at all. Her eyes close, back up against a tree and she suspects who he wants her to be, and that's just fine, because she imagines that Peeta would touch her face, her neck just like this, and Peeta would slide his hands under her shirt and up her back just that gently and Peeta would hold her and kiss her and make her body rise to his in exactly this way if he weren't -- if he wasn't --

And his hands are strong and a little too rough, and he grips a little too hard and makes Katniss gasp and grip and bite back, but that's fine, it's all fine, because the other girl would do this, would scratch and nip and growl and push back just as hard, wild and alive and fierce beneath his hands. 

Her suspicions are confirmed when he buries his face where her neck and bare shoulder meet and moans, CloveCloveClove and she thought she could pretend, but she can't anymore, because Peeta would look her in the eye, Peeta would kiss her lips and her cheeks and her neck, Peeta would hold her afterwards instead of pulling back and flushing with exertion and perhaps even shame and leaving her to collect herself against a tree.

Which is why later, clutching the small bag marked 12 and watching Thresh snap the neck of the girl she replaced, Katniss doesn't feel a bit of regret.


End file.
